


Know the Words

by ominousunflower



Series: Missing the Third [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cat-like Tendencies, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reflekdoll spoilers, Season 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21523768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousunflower/pseuds/ominousunflower
Summary: After fighting Reflekdoll, Adrien is in need of some reassurance. Fortunately, he has aboyfriend whose houseboat is always open.“Maybe you can go on a date with your boyfriend and forget about this Mister Bug business.”“Plagg!" Adrien says. “He’s not my boyfriend! We’re just friends.”“I might not understand your strange human love rituals,” Plagg says, “but if you two are just friends, then why is your face the color of edam wax?”
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Luka Couffaine
Series: Missing the Third [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1401325
Comments: 58
Kudos: 635





	Know the Words

**Author's Note:**

> Two quick notes: first, this fic takes place some period of time after [Strange Harmonies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19343917), but you probably don’t need to read the previous fics to understand this one. And second, I know that Reflekdoll might come before Silencer in canon, but for the sake of this series, let’s say Silencer came first.

“Adrien!” Alya sings. “I need a smile.”

Adrien complies, looping an arm around Juleka for yet another photograph. He hadn’t realized that his smile slipped. 

Ever since the battle against Reflekdoll earlier that day—where he fought with the Ladybug Miraculous—something dark and cold has settled in his chest, and he doesn’t understand it. Why is his stomach clenching, when he should be laughing and having fun with his friends? He hardly ever gets to hang out with them. He should be enjoying this.

After a few more poses, the photoshoot draws to a close. Adrien has to admit, it’s probably the most fun he’s ever had getting his picture taken. His father won’t be judging the pictures later, and Vincent isn’t crouching on the ground yelling, “SPAGHETTI, ADRIEN! SPAGHETTI!”

Strangely, Adrien has developed a distaste for that particular pasta dish.

“Bon travail,” he tells Juleka, as they walk back to Marinette’s place. “Those photos are going to turn out great.”

“Because you’re in them,” she mumbles.

“Nah. I’m just an accessory.” Adrien pats her shoulder. “You’re the real star.”

He hopes she believes him. He feels awful that she’s been akumatized twice now, both times because of blows to her self-esteem. And he hates that he and the others didn’t notice that she was hurting earlier. Of course she was upset that they replaced her with Marinette and him! He’d thought it was a bad idea at the time, but Alya commanded the room with such force that he found himself unable to say anything.

His shoulders hunch as he walks. That’s not an excuse. He should have spoken up. But he’s so used to being told what to do. When someone says something with authority—whether that person is Alya, his father, even Ladybug—he almost always finds himself obeying.

He’s always been a follower. And that’s fine, except when other people get hurt because of his spinelessness.

The cold feeling spreads, tingling in his bones.

They’ve just walked through the door of the bakery when Adrien’s phone dings with a text from Nathalie.

Alya sighs. “Don’t tell me that’s—”

“Yeah,” Adrien says, grimacing at the message. “I have to go home now.”

“But we’ve barely had time to hang out!” Rose says.

Adrien shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette says. “I—uh—h-hold on!” She runs over to her father and murmurs something to him.

“Of course!” he says. He points to the counter behind him. “The rejects are over there.”

Adrien watches as Marinette hastily shoves pastries into a bag, then scampers back over to the group. At the last second, she trips, and Adrien worries that he’ll have to catch her. Fortunately, she manages not to fall or spill the bag.

“Here,” she says, holding out the bag. “For your face. I mean—for the road! Of course, you can put them in your face. Mouth. Or, well, stomach. But, um…” Alya elbows her in the side, and Marinette sighs. “I’m sorry you can’t stay, is all.”

Smiling, Adrien accepts the bag. “Merci, Marinette.”

Within seconds, his ride is waiting outside—Nathalie really doesn’t waste time. The girls wave goodbye, and Adrien takes a bite of a croissant as he walks to the car. The Gorilla won’t care if he snacks during the drive home, as long as he doesn’t get any crumbs on the seat. 

The pastry is as buttery and delicious as ever, but Adrien can’t completely enjoy it. Something’s nagging at the back of his brain as he eats, and it follows him as he gets out of the car and walks up the stairs to his room. Even as he sits on his couch and takes off his shoes, though, he still can’t place it.

Plagg flies in circles around his head. “So how was using the Ladybug Miraculous? Mine is better, isn’t it?”

Adrien smiles. “You and I make the best team, Plagg,” he says. Leaning back on the couch, he sighs. “I’m just not good enough for the Ladybug Miraculous, I guess.”

“Nonsense,” Plagg says. “My Miraculous isn’t a consolation prize. You didn’t get the Cat because you’re ‘not good enough’ for the Ladybug.”

“Well, I’m not a good fit, then,” Adrien says. He closes his eyes, trying to relax, but then bits of the battle start playing in his mind, all the moments where Mister Bug messed up.

“You weren’t _that_ bad,” Plagg says, which is a decent compliment coming from him. He pops a chunk of Camembert into his mouth. “Oh, why don’t we watch some highlights from the battle? I want to see you hit yourself with the yo-yo again.”

Even though Adrien knows Plagg is just joking, he can’t bring himself to laugh. “Non, merci,” he mutters. He doesn’t need to watch Lady Noire pass with flying colors while he stumbles around with a mirror and gives himself a concussion.

“Tikki’s Miraculous is unnecessarily complicated,” Plagg says, waving a paw. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

But Adrien’s worrying about it. Because even with the Ladybug Miraculous, he was just as expendable as ever. He created a stupidly simple Lucky Charm and _still_ couldn’t find the solution—and Ladybug saved the day, as usual.

And he should be happy about that. As long as Paris is safe, that’s all that matters.

He’s not, though. Sure, he got to use Miraculous Ladybug for once, and that was beautiful and magical. But that was pretty much the only thing he _didn’t_ screw up.

Before he can voice his concerns to Plagg—who will probably just tell him to eat some cheese—his phone plays a little guitar riff, signaling that he has a text from Luka.

“Oh, it’s your boyfriend,” Plagg says. “Maybe you can go on a date and forget about this Mister Bug business.”

“Plagg!” Adrien says. He covers the phone speaker, even though Luka can’t possibly hear him over text. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“You gave him a special text tone.”

“W-well—I—I gave other people special ones, too.”

“That was only after you gave him one.”

“Shoo!” Adrien says, waving a hand as Plagg cackles. “We’re just friends.”

“I might not understand your strange human love rituals,” Plagg says, darting around to avoid Adrien’s hand, “but if you two are _just friends,_ then why is your face the color of edam wax?”

It takes Adrien a moment to understand Plagg’s cheese reference. “I’m not blushing!”

Plagg is crazy, of course—Adrien doesn’t like Luka that way. He just thinks that Luka is a cool guy. Of course he wants to spend more time with him! Is it really so strange that he would find excuses to stop by the houseboat and start texting Luka more often?

Adrien just wants to be better friends with Luka. That doesn’t mean he’s wooing him. As a kwami, Plagg clearly can’t tell the difference between human romance and human friendship.

“If you’re not going to text him back,” Plagg says, “let me do it!”

He makes a swipe for Adrien’s phone, and Adrien dives to the floor, hugging it to his chest. “Don’t you dare!”

Once he’s sure Plagg won’t try to grab the phone again, Adrien glances down at the text Luka sent him.

_Hey, Adrien. Are you alright? I heard you got caught in the akuma attack earlier._

Adrien sits up. He swears his fingers are sweating. “Plagg! What do I say? He wants to know if I’m okay after the akuma attack.”

Plagg crosses his arms. “Why are you asking me? You never ask for help when you’re texting your friends. Or is this different, hm?”

Scowling, Adrien texts a response. _Yeah, I’m fine! Thanks for checking. What about you?_

“Boring,” Plagg says. “You should have used a heart emoji.”

“But you think emojis are stupid.”

“Yes. That’s why they’re perfect for you two.”

Adrien rolls his eyes as he reads Luka’s response. _I’m alright. How is Juleka? Are you still with her?_

“Oh, no,” Adrien murmurs. “Plagg! I completely forgot about Luka.”

“Well, this is no fun,” Plagg says. “I was hoping for something I could laugh at.”

Adrien’s fingers fly frantically across the keyboard, typing words to reassure Luka. How could he forget about Luka? He’d been so focused on Juleka after the akuma attack that he hadn’t even stopped to think about how her _brother_ must be feeling.

When he realizes he’s written three rambling paragraphs, he hits delete and instead texts, _She’s fine. Is it okay if I video call you?_

He knows Luka prefers that to calls or texts—probably because without a face or voice, he has a hard time figuring out what other people are feeling. An empath without feelings is like a fencer without his foil.

Even then, Adrien usually tries to avoid video calling Luka. For some reason, he always feels nervous when he’s talking to the other boy’s face, and texting allows him to minimize his embarrassment. But this is important. He shouldn’t be talking to Luka about this over text. 

_Sure,_ Luka responds.

Adrien quickly taps the _call_ button and waits for Luka to pick up.

Luka’s face appears on the screen a moment later. The sight of him sends a flurry of emotions through Adrien, which settle into concern when he sees the strained look in Luka’s eyes.

“Hey.” Luka runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m probably worrying too much, but…”

“No, no,” Adrien says. He wishes he could reach out and hug Luka, but that’s impossible to do through the phone screen. He squeezes the phone in his hands instead. “I’m sorry, Luka. I’m not at Marinette’s anymore. But Juleka was doing well when I left.”

Luka nods. “That’s good.” It looks like he wants to say more, but he just shakes his head and glances off to the side.

“Sorry,” Adrien says. “Luka, I should have paid more attention. I had no idea she was that upset. I should have known better.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I’m just glad she’s okay now.” Luka sighs. “I feel like I could have done more, too. But what’s done is done, I guess.”

“She’s lucky to have you as a brother,” Adrien says. “I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

Luka gives another nod.

“Luka,” Adrien says, “are _you_ okay?”

There’s a pause. Luka’s forehead creases, and he presses his lips together. “I’ll be fine.”

Not _I’m fine,_ but _I will be fine._ Those aren’t the same thing.

“Is there anything I can do?” Adrien asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luka says. “But I should probably call her again and check on her. I’ll see you around?”

Despite the anxiety twisting in his gut, Adrien nods. “Sure. Take care, Luka.”

Luka waves, and then he hangs up. Adrien stares at the blank screen in silence for a minute.

“Plagg,” he finally says. “I’m worried about Luka.”

Plagg shrugs, hovering in front of him. “Well, then, do something.” He folds his tiny arms. “You could ask your boss to let you visit him—but you’re probably too afraid to interrupt his work.”

“He’s my father, not my boss,” Adrien says.

“He acts like your boss,” Plagg says.

“Well, that’s because—”

“He’s your boss.”

“Argh!” Adrien swipes Plagg out of the air and tucks him into his shirt. “Come on. I’m going to talk to him.”

“Oh, exciting!” Plagg says, his voice muffled. “Finally, some progress.”

In a way, Plagg has a point. Adrien shouldn’t have to sneak out as Chat Noir to see Luka. He should be allowed to check on his friends when he’s worried about them.

Steeling himself, Adrien creeps out of his room and makes his way down the stairs. Halfway down, he pauses, his determination wavering—but then he thinks of Luka’s subdued voice, his worried eyes, and that’s enough to make him walk the rest of the way to his father’s office.

He knocks on the door. “Père?”

There’s no response. Adrien knocks again, more loudly.

“I’m busy, Adrien,” his father’s voice says.

“It’s important,” Adrien says.

“Few things are important enough to interrupt me.”

“Please, père,” Adrien says. He hates that he has to beg his father for a few seconds of his time, but he doesn’t have another option. “I—I just need to ask you something.”

After a moment, Gabriel says, “Come in.”

Adrien takes a deep breath and opens the door to his father’s study. As always, the space feels too large, too empty. Sometimes, he could swear this room is a few degrees colder than the rest of the mansion. Maybe that’s thanks to his father’s chilly demeanor.

His father is standing at his desk, poring over binders full of designs. He doesn’t look up when Adrien comes in. “Did you enjoy spending time with your friends earlier?”

From some parents, that might be an innocent question. From Gabriel Agreste, though, it’s not. The subtext is clear: _You should be grateful that I let you waste your time with them._

It’s not fair. But Adrien has to play his father’s game if he wants to get somewhere. “Yes,” he says. “Merci, père. I appreciate that you allowed me to help them with their project.” He can’t help but emphasize the last word—because really, that’s what it was. A project. His father had forced him to leave before he could relax or have fun. “Anyway. You know there was an akuma attack earlier—”

“You’re wasting words,” Gabriel says. “Make your point in the next sentence.”

“I need to go check on my friend Luka,” Adrien says. “His sister was akumatized earlier.”

Adrien mentally pats himself on the back for getting the words out. No questions asked, no permission sought. Direct and assertive.

At that, Gabriel glances up. His eyes pin Adrien from across the room. “And why do you ‘need’ to do that?”

“I—he texted me, and—”

“So you’ve already spoken to him,” Gabriel observes. “Did he say that he needed you to visit him?”

“No,” Adrien says, “but he would never say that, so—”

“Then it sounds like you don’t need to go.”

“Père,” Adrien says, an edge creeping into his voice. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to remain calm. “I’m worried about him.”

Gabriel looks back down at his designs. “Your friend can handle himself.”

“He’s hurting,” Adrien insists. “I could see it in his eyes. What if…what if he gets akumatized again?”

Distantly, he realizes that this is the worst thing he could possibly say—Gabriel Agreste is never swayed by appeals to emotion. But Adrien can’t help it. In his mind, he keeps seeing that defeated look in Luka’s eyes as they spoke, and it makes his heart ache.

Adrien’s seen that look on Luka’s face once before, back when he visited Luka the night after his akumatization. Luka needed a friend then. He probably needs a friend now.

“If he’s so bothered by a problem that’s been resolved,” Gabriel says, “then that’s his fault for being weak.”

“He’s not weak,” Adrien growls. His father’s head snaps up, and there’s a mixture of surprise and reproach in his eyes. “But if he’s upset, then—”

“Then he has other friends who are more capable of helping him than you are.”

Adrien’s next words die in his throat. “I…but…”

“If that’s all,” Gabriel says, “you may go back to your room now. And put your phone on silent until you’ve finished your homework. I don’t want this Luka boy distracting you.”

Adrien knows he should say _yes, père._ Instead, he turns and leaves the office without another word.

“Oh, well,” Plagg says, as Adrien stomps up the stairs. “Mission failed. I suppose you’re going to give up and obey orders?”

“It’s not that,” Adrien says, trudging into his room. “But…maybe he’s right. Maybe I can’t help Luka as well as someone else could.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Plagg says. “I’m sure your boyfriend would be happy to see you.”

“Well,” Adrien says, “I could sneak out as Chat Noir, but then…which one of me should actually talk to him?”

“That depends,” Plagg says. “Which one of you is dating him?”

“I mean, Adrien would be easiest, since we—wait!” Adrien scowls at Plagg. “Neither! Neither one of me is dating Luka!”

Plagg cackles. “If you say so.”

Although Adrien’s entire body itches to go see Luka immediately, he knows he has to wait until it’s dark outside. And so he spends the next hour trying to do homework—though really, he ends up spending most of that hour pacing around his room or deflecting Plagg’s taunts about his _boyfriend._

“You know,” Plagg says, at one point. “Personally, I think the guitar boy is more fun to be around. Ladybug is too professional.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Adrien says, frowning at a math problem. “She’s dedicated and driven. That’s a good thing.”

“If she was a président-directeur général, maybe,” Plagg says, sniffing. “It seems like she’d make a better boss than a girlfriend.”

Finally, when the sun has set and the sky is deep blue, Adrien jumps up from his desk and turns to the window. “Alright. Plagg, transforme-moi!”

Heart thumping, Chat Noir pulls out his baton and nudges open a window. After a moment of thought, he turns and grabs the bag of pastries Marinette gave him at the bakery. Then he leaps out into the evening air.

For once, as he races across the rooftops, he finds himself agreeing with Plagg’s complaints about Gabriel Agreste. Because of course, Chat understands why his father has him practice piano or do photoshoots instead of hanging out with his friends. Gabriel prioritizes work and excellence over frivolous activities.

But comforting Luka isn’t _frivolous._ Chat’s friend is hurting, and no amount of homework is more important than checking on Luka to make sure he’s alright. How could his father possibly deny him that?

“It’s not fair,” Chat mutters, as he touches down on the sidewalk beside the Liberty. He should be allowed to visit his friend when he’s upset! It’s absurd. “Alright. Plagg, detran—”

“Chat Noir?”

“Uh.” Chat glances up and finds Luka watching him from the deck of the houseboat. _Merde._ He’d wanted to visit Luka as Adrien, not Chat Noir. “That's me.”

“Are you looking for Juleka?”

“No,” Chat says. He sets the bag of pastries down on a cardboard box and joins Luka by the railing. “I, uh—heard she was with her friends, so I figured I didn’t need to check on her.”

Luka sighs. “At least they can make her feel better. I don’t seem to be very good at that.” He turns to Chat. “So what brings you here?”

“Well,” Chat says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You, actually.”

For a moment, Luka stares at him with a strange expression. It’s a mix of—fondness? Confusion? Chat can’t place it. “Me?”

“I…I’ve had a relative akumatized before,” Chat says. “I know it’s hard to watch someone you love be pushed to that. I was worried about you.” For some reason, his cheeks are burning. He glances out at the water instead. “And I spoke to your friend Adrien, too. He wanted to check on you, but he wasn’t allowed to leave the mansion. So…I’m here for both of us.”

He bites back a smile at the irony. Luka doesn’t realize how true that is.

“He did?” Luka says, his voice strangely high. He clears his throat. “That’s sweet, Chat. Both of you.”

Chat risks a glance at Luka, only to find him smiling softly at him. He hastily looks away. “Sure. N-no problem.”

“So, Chat…or are you going by _Mister Bug_ now?”

Chat groans. “No. Never again. I make a better cat.”

“Maybe,” Luka says. “But I liked the Ladybug costume. You look good in spots.”

“It’s about the only _good_ thing I did earlier,” Chat says, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’m sorry, Luka. I was totally incompetent. It’s my fault it took us so long to help Juleka.”

“What do you mean?” Luka asks. “I thought you did a great job.”

“Are you kidding?” Chat asks. “I got the easiest Lucky Charm in the world, and I still couldn’t figure out how to use it. If Ladybug hadn’t been there, we would have lost.”

“The Ladybug Miraculous seems complicated,” Luka says. “I doubt it’s the sort of thing you can master in one day.”

“Well, then, I guess the Cat Miraculous is so easy that anyone can use it,” Chat says. He hunches his shoulders, eyes fixed on the river. “Because Ladybug had no trouble with it.”

“I don’t know about that,” Luka says. “Her performance definitely wasn’t perfect. But Chat, nobody could possibly use the Cat Miraculous as well as you. I’m sure of that.”

Chat feels Luka’s hand on his arm. He turns to meet his eyes, expecting something like pity—but there’s no mistaking the certainty in Luka’s gaze.

“I’m glad you think that,” Chat says with a weak smile. “If I’m being honest, sometimes I feel like Ladybug doesn’t need me. Like I’m just…I don’t know.”

He doesn’t finish the thought, because it’s too painful to voice out loud: that no one really needs him. No one really _wants_ him. As Chat, he’s just a meat shield; as Adrien, he’s just a pretty face. And he tries to tell himself that’s absurd—after all, Alya had asked for his help with the photoshoot earlier! Doesn’t that mean she and the others wanted him around?

But even then, it seemed like Alya had an ulterior motive. Chat can’t put his finger on it, but it seems like no one ever wants him around for the sake of having him around.

“You’re not expendable,” Luka says, as if he’s read Chat’s mind. “And Chat—I can’t speak for how Ladybug feels, but right now, _I_ need you. In fact, I was hoping you’d come by tonight, because…” He takes a deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, and exhales. “This is the second time Juleka’s been akumatized. I feel like I wasn’t there for her. It’s…” He picks at one of the bracelets on his wrist. “It’s not a good feeling.”

Instinctively, Chat steps forward and wraps Luka in a tight hug. After all, doesn’t Luka keep telling him that he shouldn’t hesitate to hug him? If there was ever a good time for Chat to give Luka a hug, this must be it.

Luka returns the embrace, resting his chin on Chat’s shoulder. “And it’s not the sort of feeling I can turn into a song,” Luka adds. “Because writing a song…that’s nothing. I need to actually _do_ something for Juleka. I can’t let this happen a third time.”

“Luka,” Chat says. “It’s not your fault.”

“I tried to encourage her this morning,” Luka says. “Even though I’m not good with words, I tried. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing I say ever helps anyone.”

“That’s not true,” Chat says, hugging Luka a little tighter. “You really helped me the last time I was here. And…I’m sure you did say the right thing. Everyone I know says you’re an amazing friend, so I’m sure you’re a phenomenal brother. But with Papillon, sometimes our best isn’t enough.”

“Isn’t that a bit defeatist?”

“No. But…” Still holding Luka, Chat pulls back enough to look him in the eyes. He knows he’s being more serious than usual—in fact, Ladybug would probably be shocked if she saw him right now. But he needs Luka to know it’s not his fault. “No one’s invincible. And I hate to say it, but no one can stop Papillon from preying on them or someone else. We all have weaknesses, and he’s an expert at exploiting them. That’s what makes him so hard to beat—he can get to anyone.”

“Except you and Ladybug, right?”

Pressing his lips together, Chat glances away. “I can’t say for sure. But I don’t think we’re invincible, either.”

Deep down, Chat is terrified of just that: that if Papillon comes after him some day, he won’t be strong enough to resist. Hasn’t Chat already fallen under the control of so many akumas? What if all of the pain he always shoves aside is too much to handle one day, and Papillon catches him? Chat has let Ladybug and Paris down before, but never that badly.

“So you’re telling me I can’t protect _you,_ either?” Luka asks.

Those words make a tiny flame flicker in Chat’s chest, soft and warm. Luka cares enough about Chat to want to protect him from Papillon? Chat’s heart beats a little faster at the thought.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Chat says. “And, I mean, Ladybug’s more useful than me, anyway. So if I get akumatized—”

“Chat,” Luka says. Although his voice is quiet, his desperate tone makes the words die in Chat’s thought. “I don’t want to think about that right now.”

“Right,” Chat says. He wraps Luka back up in a hug, if only to avoid seeing the look in his eyes. “What _do_ you want to talk about?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

Luka’s grip on Chat tightens. “I’d rather not be alone right now.”

“I know the feeling,” Chat murmurs.

Slowly, Luka withdraws from Chat’s hug—and although the night isn’t chilly, Chat suddenly feels colder without his touch.

“We can sit for a while, if you want,” Luka says. He grabs two deck chairs and places them so that they’re facing the water side-by-side. “But I understand if you have other things to do.”

Of course Chat wants to stay; there’s no question about that. When he’s wearing his mask, though, he can’t help but put his walls up. He has a part to play, and if he lets too much of himself show…well, he’s not sure what will happen, but it makes his stomach flutter nervously.

“I suppose I could keep you company,” Chat says. He slinks over to one of the chairs and sinks into the seat. Arms folded behind his head, he grins. “It’s not often that I get to kick back and relax.”

Luka smiles. “Well, you’re welcome here anytime you want to unwind. Maman probably wouldn’t ask any questions.” He glances at the pastry bag that Chat abandoned earlier. “Did you bring food?”

“Oh! Yes,” Chat says, sitting up. “They were on the house, so I think they’re supposed to be ugly or something—but I tried a croissant earlier, and it tasted just as good.”

Luka reads the side of the bag. “Oh, you were at Tom and Sabine’s.”

“Uh…” Chat laughs nervously. “Right. I—I was there earlier, to check on your sister. She didn’t see me, but Marinette’s parents saw me, and, um…free pastries.”

“Free food is always good.” Luka takes a seat next to Chat and offers him the bag. “You pick first.”

“No, you go ahead,” Chat says. “Like I said, I had a croissant earlier. I’m not too hungry.”

Humming, Luka searches through the bag and selects a lumpy pastry that resembles a macaron. “Oh. You’re right, they do look a little weird.”

“Very sorry,” Chat says. “Unfortunately, my pastries aren’t as cute as I am.”

“To be fair,” Luka says, taking a bite, “you set the bar pretty high.”

Chat tries not to blush as Luka takes a seat beside him. He’s sure Luka meant that platonically. Plenty of people call their friends cute, right?

With a sigh, Luka leans back in the seat and closes his eyes. Only then does Chat realize how close they are: thighs touching, arms brushing, there’s hardly any space between them. Swallowing nervously, he sits up straight and tries to create some space between them.

“You don’t have to be a stranger,” Luka says, his eyes still closed. “I don’t mind sitting close. You can move the chair if it bothers you, though.”

It doesn’t bother Chat at all. In fact, he’s been itching for human touch ever since he set foot on the deck of the Liberty. He was just afraid to make things awkward.

Tentatively, he brings his knees to his chest and curls up in the chair. The only problem is which way to face: if he faces away from Luka, that means he’s essentially sitting with his back to him. But if he faces toward Luka, well—isn’t that a bit intimate?

Then again, Luka did say _I don’t mind sitting close,_ didn’t he?

Chat turns and lays his head against the fabric of the deck chair, his knees lightly touching Luka’s lap. For a moment, he watches Luka, wondering if he’ll open his eyes. 

Looking at Luka, he feels…strange. Chat doesn’t know the word for it, but it’s the same bizarre feeling that makes him flustered almost every time he talks to Luka. He’s not intimidated by Luka, of course. The other boy is far too kind and gentle for Chat to feel threatened by him. But it’s a strange mix of awe and nervousness—of wanting to get closer, and feeling like that’s somehow wrong—that baffles Chat.

Heart spinning, Chat closes his eyes and relaxes in the deck chair.

A few moments pass, and then Chat feels fingers in his hair, exploring, scratching. Instinctively, he nuzzles closer to the source, pushing his head up against the hand. A purr rumbles in his chest, and his entire body melts into liquid, molding itself to the figure next to him.

Beneath the drone of Chat’s purr, there’s a laugh. “How do you do that?”

“Mm?” Chat presses his nose against soft fabric and breathes in the warmth.

“How do you purr?”

“Don’t know. Cat.” Chat moves closer, seeking more contact. He rubs his cheek against the fabric. “More?”

The hand complies, knuckles rubbing just behind Chat’s fake ears. His purr gets even louder, and he instinctively moves closer until he’s lying down, his head resting on…a pillow? Legs? He can’t decide, because fingers toy with his hair and knuckles stroke the nape of his neck, making sleep tug at his mind.

“Hm,” the hands say.

“What?” Chat mumbles.

“This is nice. Maybe I should get a cat.”

“I’m a cat.”

“You’re a little big. I don’t think we have room for you.”

Chat’s purr stutters with a laugh. “Are you calling me fat?”

“Definitely not. I saw how much muscle Mister Bug has.”

Fingers playfully poke Chat’s abdomen, and he twitches in response. He doesn’t like belly rubs. He’s too ticklish.

Then he wonders: did the hands just call Chat muscled? He’s tempted to respond with something flirtatious—but why would he flirt with hands? So he just hums quietly and burrows closer against the soft warmth, seeking heat and touch, sinking into a fuzzy trance.

Eventually, Chat finds himself blinking his eyes open. He knows he must have fallen asleep, because his eyes are bleary, his mouth tacky. And it’s definitely later, because the sky is…getting light?

That can’t be right. Chat visited Luka in the evening. It should be getting _darker._

He blinks again, but there’s no mistaking it. The sky is deep blue, glowing with the first signs of dawn. Twilight.

Still lying down, Chat glances around. He’s in the same place as he was when he fell asleep—curled up in a deck chair, facing the water. Except…he’s taking up two deck chairs. So where is Luka sitting?

Chat’s eyes flick downward, and he realizes that there’s a lap beneath his head.

Slowly, Chat turns and looks up.

Luka’s head is tilted back above him, face turned upwards to the dim sky. His eyes are closed, and one of his arms is draped across Chat’s body. He looks so serene, so _beautiful,_ that it makes Chat’s heart do a quadruple barrel roll in his chest. 

Yelping, Chat flails and tries to scramble off Luka’s lap. His limbs get tangled up, though, and he ends up falling backwards, pulling his deck chair down on top of himself.

“Chat?” Luka’s voice asks. A second later, the deck chair is pulled off him. “Are you alright?”

Chat stares up at Luka’s outstretched arm. He’s reminded of the first time they met, when Adrien tripped and knocked over a keyboard. He’d blushed then. He’s blushing now.

“I’m great,” Chat says. Hesitantly, he takes Luka’s hand and stands. “M-merci.”

They seem to hold each other’s hands a few seconds longer than they need to—or maybe that’s just Chat’s imagination, slowing time so that he can savor the moment.

Luka lets go of Chat’s hand and gestures to the deck chairs. “Do you want to sit back down?”

“Sure,” Chat says.

This time, though, he places his chair about half a meter away from Luka’s. Because now that his brain is waking up, he’s realized something: the hands he was talking to before he fell asleep belonged to Luka. Chat let Luka Couffaine _pet_ _him_ and then _fell asleep on his lap._

His cheeks burn hot with a blush. How could he let something so embarrassing happen? He hadn’t even known he was capable of being _that_ cat-like. Sure, he purrs sometimes, and occasionally Ladybug has scratched his chin as a joke…but this is a whole different level of animalistic tendencies. Chat’s not sure he’ll ever be able to look Luka in the eye again.

 _Calm down,_ he tells himself. _You survived the shower conversation, didn’t you?_

Groaning, Chat hides his head in his hands. Right. He’d almost forgotten about the shower conversation: another one of his greatest hits. What is it about Luka Couffaine that makes Chat act like such a fool around him?

“Something wrong?” Luka asks.

Voice muffled by his hands, Chat says, “Why do I always end up embarrassing myself around you?”

Luka pats his shoulder. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I fell asleep, too.”

Chat peeks between his fingers at him. “Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Luka says. “I woke up a few minutes before you.”

“Quoi!” Chat says, dropping his hands. “And you didn’t tell me to move?”

Smiling, Luka shrugs. “You looked comfortable. And I didn’t mind.”

Chat’s blush returns full force. “Oh. Um. Well. I _was_ pretty comfortable.” Part of him wonders if Luka would let him lie back down on his lap, if he asked—but no! That’s stupid! He can’t possibly ask that. What is he thinking?

“You know,” Luka says, “if you were comfortable, you didn’t have to get up.”

“I did!” Chat insists, far too loudly. “I mean—my muscles were getting stiff. And my arm fell asleep.”

Luka nods. “That makes sense. We were here for a while.”

Once again, Chat realizes that it is, in fact, almost dawn. He must have been asleep on Luka’s lap for at least…seven hours? Eight, nine? How is that even _possible?_

Maybe it’s because, here on the deck with Luka, he feels strangely secure. Like he’s enough. He doesn’t feel like he has to try so hard to prove himself, or be something he’s not. He’s free to joke and tease—and he’s also free to be sensitive, to show Luka some of his vulnerability. Because with Luka, he feels safe. He feels _wanted._

He doesn’t quite understand it. But he wishes he could give Luka that same sort of reassurance.

“I'm sorry, Luka,” Chat says. “I meant to talk to you about how you were feeling, and instead I complained about my job and fell asleep. I didn’t say anything to make you feel better.”

“You didn’t need to,” Luka says. “Remember what I said before? Sometimes there are other ways to say things, like music or dance. You don’t always have to say things with words.”

“Yeah,” Chat murmurs. “You…” A jolt of shock goes through him when he remembers that yes, Luka said that to him before—but he said that to _Adrien,_ not Chat. “Are you sure you said that to me?”

“Hm,” Luka says. “Maybe not. I guess I said that to someone else.”

Chat peers suspiciously at Luka. Surely he doesn’t know who he is. That’s not possible, is it? No, definitely not. It’s just an honest mistake. Chat and Adrien are pretty similar, after all. It’s not surprising that Luka mixed them up.

“So…” Chat leans slightly closer. “Um, _did_ I make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Luka says, smiling. “You did.”

And that smile, in the dim light, with so little space between them—yet again, Chat is left speechless. But how else can Chat describe the feeling he has when he looks at Luka? Music? Well, if this is a song, then it’s one where Chat doesn’t know the words. He’s just mumbling along under his breath, with no idea how it actually goes.

It occurs to Chat that he could use actions instead of words. But he already hugged Luka, and that wasn’t enough to describe what he’s feeling. He needs something that’s stronger than hugging…but what would _that_ be? Chat has no idea. The itching is there, though: a strange urge to do more.

“Chat?” Luka says.

“I…” Chat grins sheepishly. “Sorry. I guess I don’t have many words right now.”

“That’s okay.”

Luka’s still wearing that soft smile, and it beckons Chat closer, closer, until he’s pulled his chair up against Luka’s without realizing. Stupidly, he rests his head on Luka’s shoulder, and Luka’s fingers move to his head again, tugging and twirling strands of hair.

His touch partly satisfies the strange urge that Chat feels. Maybe it was just Chat’s body saying that he needed more petting. Really, he’s not familiar enough with his cat-like tendencies to know for sure, but that makes the most sense.

What he _does_ know is that, for whatever reason, sitting like this makes Luka feel better. And that was Chat’s goal when he came here—so if cuddling with Luka and getting some head scratches is what it takes to put him at ease, then Chat’s willing to tolerate the embarrassment. Besides, it kind of feels nice. He’s not complaining.

“You never did tell me how you purr,” Luka says.

Chat groans. “I don’t know. But it’s embarrassing. Can we just pretend it’s not a thing?”

“It’s a little loud for that,” Luka says, laughing. “Doesn’t it feel weird? I mean, can you feel it in your chest, or…”

His free hand comes to rest against Chat’s chest, just above his heart. Eyes wide, Chat looks up at Luka.

Their faces are centimeters apart, and as they stare at each other, that stupid urge comes back, stronger than before. The urge to do _what,_ though? Chat doesn’t know. All he knows is that he wants to be closer to Luka, but he’s not sure how much closer he can get unless he—

His purr cuts off abruptly, and he stares at Luka, cheeks burning.

_Unless he kisses him._

Well, that can’t be right. Chat has never felt the urge to kiss one of his friends before. There must be another way to get closer to Luka that he hasn’t thought of.

“Sorry,” Luka says. He settles back in his seat, and his fingers go back to scratching Chat’s head as if nothing has happened. “Sometimes I’m bad with personal space.”

“It—it’s fine,” Chat says. “I don’t mind.”

He should be leaving. He’s already stayed at the Liberty too long—and he was probably spotted by Luka’s family, too, which is a problem he’ll worry about later. But Luka’s touch is soothing, and the chair is surprisingly comfortable, and Chat really, really doesn’t want to move.

His eyes flutter shut, and he decides to stay a few minutes longer. He can go home when the sun comes up.

As they sit and wait for the sky to grow lighter, Chat feels like he should say something else. When he thinks about it, though, there’s not really anything more he needs to say. Luka’s right: sometimes words aren’t necessary. 

At the same time, Chat wishes he had a name for the way Luka Couffaine makes him feel.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations:**  
>  Bon travail – good work  
> père – father  
> Président-directeur général (PDG) – CEO  
> merde – dang it, shit  
> Quoi! – What!


End file.
